In Time Like Glass
by dragongirlG
Summary: Shortly after the war, Auror trainee Harry Potter attempts to confiscate a stolen Time-Turner from Draco Malfoy, accidentally sending them ten years into the past. Meanwhile, nine-year-old Harry is alone at Privet Drive for the holiday - or so he thinks.


**In Time Like Glass**

A time-travel fic by dragongirlG

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_In time like glass the stars are set,  
And seeming-fluttering butterflies  
Are fixed fast in Time's glass net  
With mountains and with maids' bright eyes.  
Above the cold Cordilleras hung  
The winged eagle and the Moon:  
The gold, snow-throated orchid sprung  
From gloom where peers the dark baboon:  
The Himalayas' white, rapt brows;  
The jewel-eyed bear that threads their caves;  
The lush plains' lowing herds of cows;  
That Shadow entering human graves :  
All these like stars in Time are set,  
They vanish but can never pass;  
The Sun that with them fades is yet  
Fast-fixed as they in Time like glass._

W.J. Turner

Chapter 1: Once Upon a December

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"Vernon! Vernon, oh my goodness! We're going to be late!"

Petunia Dursley's shrill voice rudely jerked nine-year-old Harry Potter awake. He winced, placing his hands over his ears, and scowled as his cousin Dudley, Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia ran up and down the stairs, shaking dust down into the cupboard in which he slept. They were all going to New York City for the first week of the winter holidays. Harry didn't fancy sitting on an aeroplane next to Dudley for eight hours, though he was rather excited about leaving the country. Uncle Vernon wouldn't normally have taken Harry, but his business client, Mr. Woods, insisted on giving him a four-person flight, hotel, and travel package, and Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge, had taken ill this week.

Harry looked at the pitiful rucksack lying next to him and sighed. It was packed with his best clothes (a selection of Dudley's castoffs that weren't torn, ripped, or stained), as well as a few spare scraps of paper and a single short pencil that Harry hoped to use to occupy himself during the flight – if Dudley didn't steal them from him, of course.

Harry's stomach growled. He'd been locked in the cupboard since yesterday evening; at school that day, while trying to escape from Dudley and his bullying friends, Harry had jumped behind some dustbins and accidentally ended up on the school roof instead of on the ground. He shook his head, remembering the incident with bewilderment and frustration. Strange things always seemed to happen around him, but he didn't understand why, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always punished him angrily whenever they occurred.

"Dudley! Dudley, come down, popkin, or we'll miss the plane!" Aunt Petunia shrieked.

Harry's heart lurched with excitement, and he stood up, ready to be let out of the cupboard.

"Dudley, hurry up!" Uncle Vernon bellowed.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs signaled Dudley's arrival. Each step was punctuated by a strange _thunk_ and a smattering of dust onto Harry's forehead. Harry blew the dust away half-heartedly.

"Dudley, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, sounding confused, "I don't think your computer's going to fit on the plane. You're going to have to leave it behind."

Harry sighed. This was quite possibly the worst thing Aunt Petunia could have said. He could already imagine Dudley's piggy round face turning as red as a tomato underneath his short blonde hair, could already see the fake tears of anger building up in those squinty blue eyes, could already hear –

_STOMP_. Dust fell down into Harry's eyes as the ground and staircase vibrated around him. "B-but M-MUMMY!" Dudley wailed loudly. "I h-have to bring my c-computer! Wh-what am I g-going to d-do while Daddy's at his m-meetings?!"

"Oh, sweetums! Calm down!" Aunt Petunia sounded extremely distressed. "Why don't Mummy and Daddy buy you two ice creams when we get to the airport? How's that?"

"Petunia, we haven't got time to unpack it," Uncle Vernon said gruffly. "Let's just take the damn thing. Mr. Woods may even be impressed by it. We've got an extra ticket, anyway."

Harry's jaw dropped open in shock. They were going to replace him with Dudley's computer?! He pounded on the cupboard door furiously. "Uncle Vernon! You can't leave me here!"

"Shut up, boy!" Uncle Vernon roared. "We told you yesterday that you'd be staying in that cupboard for a week!"

Harry's eyes widened in shock. He'd thought that the punishment would continue after they'd returned from the trip, not during it!

"But Vernon, what about food?" Aunt Petunia said tremulously.

"Get some cans and a bucket from the pantry, Petunia," Uncle Vernon said, "that'll keep the boy from starving and dirtying himself. Boy! Shut up!" He kicked the cupboard door hard, and Harry jumped backward, his face burning with fury and disbelief. He couldn't believe that this was happening. He grabbed his rucksack and rushed forward as the cupboard door opened, but Aunt Petunia thrust a large bucket and a paper bag filled with canned goods at him and knocked him backward into the wall. Before he could regain his footing, his cupboard was locked once more. Shoving the bag toward the corner, he sat down on his cot, seething as he listened to the Dursleys dragging their luggage out the front door and starting up the car. With the roar of the engine, they were gone.

Harry thanked his lucky stars that he'd learned how to pick the lock on the cupboard last year. With an angry sigh, he grabbed the paper clip hidden at the corner of his cot and quietly undid the lock, blinking a little as he crawled out of the cramped space and into the empty, sunlit hallway. A nervous excitement filled him. Although he was still very angry that his relatives had left him behind, the thought of having the house to himself for a whole week was thrilling. There was still food left in the refrigerator, and he already knew how to cook, so he wouldn't have to eat those nasty canned goods the whole time. He also knew how to clean the house so that it looked like he'd never left the cupboard. And although Dudley had taken the computer with him, he hadn't managed to pack the telly. Harry ran to the living room and picked up the remote, flipping through the television channels until he found an interesting cartoon movie involving a young boy named Wart and his wizard teacher, Merlin. Aunt Petunia never let him or Dudley watch stuff involving magic. The very word 'magic' was normally prohibited in the house.

A thought struck Harry suddenly as he watched a commercial about a new label of chocolate biscuits. He knew that Aunt Petunia had bought Dudley a carton of chocolate ice cream a few days ago. Dudley had probably already finished it, but it wouldn't hurt to check, and Dudley would never notice it was missing when he came back. Grinning, Harry went to the kitchen and pulled open the freezer door, his bright green eyes lighting up with delight as he spotted the ice cream container sparkling on the top shelf. He pried the lid off, noting with surprise that over half the ice cream still remained, and he swiped the sticky substance experimentally with his finger, closing his eyes and moaned appreciatively as the chocolate melted on his tongue. He hardly ever got to eat sweets.

An hour later, Harry found himself overrun by a nervous energy, which he promptly decided to release by jumping all over the couch – another thing that was normally prohibited in the house. "Magic, magic, magic, magic, magic!" he shouted gleefully, as he watched Merlin change into a germ to defeat his enemy, Madam Mim, who had turned into a dragon. Harry wished that he had someone like Merlin to teach him and fight for him against the Dursleys.

"Magic, magic, magic," Harry sang breathlessly, plopping himself down onto the couch to watch the rest of the movie. His heart was beating furiously and his cheeks felt hot and flushed from all of the jumping, but he'd never felt so happy in his life. Freedom from the Dursleys was more than enough to make up for the fact that he wasn't going to the States.

Harry spent the rest of the day playing with Dudley's toys. After making himself a light lunch, noting that he'd need to go to the store to restock the refrigerator, he ran up to Dudley's room, collected all of the scattered and unbroken toys into a box, and dragged them down to the living room. He assembled a full-scale railroad using Dudley's untouched Lego set, which Dudley had received for his birthday, and amused himself for a while by making the train move around with the remote while shouting "Choo-choo!". He then staged a breathless two-and-a-half hour battle on the railroad between the Transformers and Action Force figurines, half of which appeared to be missing various body parts. The Transformers won because they were bigger and could turn into machines, but not after suffering heavy losses due to the Action Force's superior tactics. Harry sat back, shaking his head sadly at the Action Force figurines, and placed all of the Action Force members next to one of the lampposts along the railroad. "That's your prison," he told them. "It's an invisible prison, so you can't move very far from the spot. But at least it's light in your prison, not dark." He then stood up, rubbing his stomach as it growled, and went to the kitchen to make dinner.

Harry had just ladled some steaming, delicious hot soup into a bowl when he heard movement near the front door. He froze in fear, wondering if his relatives had missed their flight somehow and come back home early. There was no way he had enough time to clean up the kitchen and living room and get back into the cupboard without being seen. Turning off the stove, he waited with bated breath for Uncle Vernon's furious shout of "Boy!", but it never came. Curiously, Harry went to the front hallway and peeked out the window. The only thing he could see was the dim glow of the streetlamps and the bright fairy lights adorning one of the houses down the street. "Must've been one of Mrs. Figg's cats or something," he murmured, shrugging, and he turned away just as a shadow moved past the window.

He went back to the kitchen and carefully carried his bowl of soup to the table, sighing as the hot liquid went down his throat and warmed the rest of his body. It was oddly quiet in the house. Harry was used to Dudley's screaming fits and Uncle Vernon's bellows and Aunt Petunia's failed attempts at appeasing them both. He was not used to this strange, still silence in which he could enjoy a full meal without worrying about having his food stolen by his cousin or taken away by his aunt. He briefly considered taking his dinner to the living room so that he could watch television as he ate, but he discarded the idea as an image of Dudley doing that exact thing floated through his mind. The last thing he wanted to do was be more like his cousin.

A flicker of light in the garden caught his eye, and Harry frowned, cautiously moving toward the window and scanning the darkness for movement. Again, he could see nothing but the faint outline of the trees, swaying gently in the wind. He vaguely wondered if it would snow. He'd never been allowed to play in it; Aunt Petunia had always forced him outside with a shovel and ordered him to dig out Uncle Vernon's car while Dudley pelted him with snowballs. With the Dursleys gone, however, he could build his very own snowman! Harry's face lit up with a smile at the thought.

Harry yawned loudly as he cleared the dishes, smiling at the thought of sleeping in a real bed tonight. Dudley had two bedrooms upstairs: one in which he slept and kept all of his working toys and his computer, and another in which he kept his unread books and broken toys. Harry refused to sleep in the cupboard while the Dursleys weren't around; he decided to use Dudley's second bedroom and sleep in a real bed, even if it was a bit dusty. Plus, he'd be able to read some of Dudley's books, which Dudley had likely never touched. Aunt Petunia never allowed Harry to read books except for school. She seemed to think that he would get ideas, and she didn't want Harry to be smarter than Dudley (though being smarter than Dudley was truly not a difficult task).

As Harry turned off the lights in the house and snuggled under the covers on the bed, anticipation ran through his body as he thought of the freedom and adventures he'd have over the six days.

-------------------------------------------------------

Nineteen-year-old Harry Potter looked at Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt in disbelief. "No."

"Potter," Shacklebolt replied in his deep, slow voice, "nobody else will do it. Nobody else will go _near_ him without trying to murder him."

Harry sighed, looking at the agitated form of Draco Malfoy in the Auror Office's holding cell. "You know my history with Draco Malfoy," Harry protested.

"Yes," said Shacklebolt, "you saved his life. Twice. Despite the fact that he was an accomplice to the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Despite the fact that he attempted to kill you at the Battle of Hogwarts."

"It wasn't exactly Malfoy who tried to kill me…" Harry began, stopping as he caught the triumphant smile dawning on Shacklebolt's face. "All right, I'll do it," he sighed. "You said Malfoy was caught breaking into the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes."

"Which part? Which room?" Harry hadn't visited the Department of Mysteries since he was fifteen, but in his mind, he could still clearly see the circular room with its revolving, handle-less doors lit by an eerie blue light.

"That's what you're going to find out," said Shacklebolt, pointing his wand at the door of the holding cell with his right hand. In his left, he held Malfoy's hawthorn and unicorn hair wand, which Harry had returned to Malfoy shortly after the war had ended a year and a half ago. With a sigh, Harry crossed the threshold to the room, shivering as he stepped through an anchored Shield Charm that soon surrounded his entire body with a soft white glow. As a precaution, all of the Aurors at the Ministry of Magic were covered with a Shield Charm once they entered a holding cell with marked Death Eaters. Harry silently thanked Penelope Clearwater and Cho Chang for their research, then focused on his old arch-rival with a narrowed gaze.

Malfoy looked up at him with a sneer, his eyes flickering to the Auror insignia on the breast of Harry's robes. "Potter," he said coldly.

"Malfoy," said Harry shortly. "Let's make this quick. Will you consent to using Veritaserum?"

Malfoy's pale grey eyes narrowed. "With you interrogating me? In your fucking dreams, Potter."

Harry ignored the jibe and continued calmly, "All right then. Tell me, Malfoy. Why did you break into the Department of Mysteries?"

Malfoy's jaw tightened. "No reason."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Either you tell me now of your own free will," he replied, "or I hold you down, force Veritaserum onto your tongue, and ask you the same question."

A flush of red stained Malfoy's pale cheeks. "You wouldn't do that," he said uncertainly.

"I would," said Harry coolly. Aurors were allowed to force Veritaserum upon marked Death Eaters, but the thought made Harry slightly ill.

Malfoy fidgeted with the frayed collar of his black robe. "Fine, Potter," he said, averting his gaze. "I – I wanted to see the Planet Room. I heard that you could float in the dark and see the planets up close there." He picked at his collar again, and for the first time, Harry noticed a small lump underneath the black folds of fabric.

"You're a terrible liar, Malfoy," said Harry. "What's that under your robe?"

Malfoy looked up, his eyes wide. "What? Nothing."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Take off your robe, Malfoy."

Malfoy's face drained of color. "No! You – you can't make me!" He scooted back into the wall, cowering. "Please, Potter. Don't make me."

Harry bit his lip, knowing that Malfoy didn't want his Dark Mark to be exposed in the middle of the newly rebuilt, but still slightly volatile, Ministry. "Show me what you have underneath there, Malfoy, or else I'll have to Summon your robe straight off your body."

Malfoy casted Harry a hateful glance and slowly lifted a glittering chain out of his robes. In the middle of the chain hung a tiny, sparkling object that Harry immediately recognized as a Time-Turner. "Satisfied, Potter?" Malfoy snapped.

"A Time-Turner?" asked Harry, frowning. "Did you steal that from the Department of Mysteries?"

Malfoy's eyes were shuttered as he answered. "Yes, I took it from the Time Room."

"Why?"

Malfoy shook his head, his lips pressed shut tightly.

Harry sighed. "Look, Malfoy – you know what, I don't want to know why. Just place the Time-Turner on the table so that I can return it to the Department."

Malfoy didn't move. He gripped the Time-Turner tightly in his hand, watching Harry with an expression of mixed anger and fear. Harry felt his calm mask slipping, and he resisted the urge to take out his wand and Summon the Time-Turner to him. He didn't know what kind of effect a spell would have on an item from the Department of Mysteries.

"Malfoy, please. The sooner you give it to me, the sooner I'll be able to get you out of here." Harry sighed, thinking of the nice warm bath waiting for him at his flat as well as the after-dinner fire-chat he and Ginny had scheduled. He continued, "You'll be charged with breaking and entering as well as theft of a class five magical object, but I can ask Hermione to work on lightening your sentence if you give up the damn thing." He moved a little closer to Malfoy, his eyes focusing on the Time-Turner as if it were the golden Snitch in a Quidditch game. He didn't fancy having to take the thing by force, but he'd have to if Malfoy wouldn't give it up. He fingered the wand hidden in his right sleeve, wishing he could Stun Malfoy and take the Time-Turner off his neck, but Aurors were not allowed to use Stunning except in a holding cell except in cases of self-defense.

"Don't come any closer, Potter. I'm not giving it to you," said Malfoy, his voice colored by fear.

Harry wondered idly if a verbal threat was enough to warrant the use of a Stunner. "It's not yours, Malfoy. It belongs to the Department. You have to return it."

"No!" Malfoy gripped the Time-Turner harder, his breath coming in harsh pants. "Don't you see? It's the only way I can set things right."

"Set things right?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing. He took another step closer to Malfoy. "What do you mean?"

"Crabbe is dead," Malfoy said, his voice breaking. "The rest of my friends are in Azkaban or in exile. The Ministry has stripped my family of money and our home of possessions. I have to go back and warn them."

Harry's breath caught as he realized what Malfoy had been planning to do. "Have you ever used a Time-Turner before?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "You can't be seen by anybody. That's the number one rule. You can't talk to anybody in that time. You definitely can't talk to your younger self." He echoed Hermione's words from so many years ago. "Terrible things have happened to wizards who have meddled with time."

"What do you know, Potter?" Malfoy cried, his face full of rage. "You won the war! You have everything you want!"

Harry felt his own face heat with fury. "Do you think we didn't suffer any losses, Malfoy? Do you think that Crabbe is the only one who's dead?" He clenched his fists and forced himself back to calmness. "Malfoy, please, give me the Time-Turner and we can both go home."

"I don't have a home anymore, Potter," Malfoy said, his voice tinged with desperation. "But I will if I do this."

Harry saw Malfoy's wrist turning the glittering object, and he pulled out his wand. a second too late. "_Stupefy!_" he cried. The spell hit the Time-Turner, and a weird blue light surrounded him and Malfoy. For the second time in his life, Harry had the sensation of falling backward very, very quickly. Malfoy's terrified face floated up next to his for a moment, and in the next instant, he landed roughly on top of a pile of brooms. He heard sputtering next to him, and he turned and saw Malfoy, pushing a mop off his pale blonde hair. Harry fixed Malfoy with a furious glare. "What the hell is the matter with you? Do you know what you've done?"

Malfoy was examining the Time-Turner with a horrified expression. "It's broken!" He turned to Harry, furious. "It would've worked perfectly if you hadn't tried to Stun me, you idiot! Now I could be in – in the eighteenth century, for all I know!"

Harry clamped down his rising anger. "How far did you try to go back?" he asked.

"To the summer before our second year at Hogwarts," Malfoy answered. "Before the Chamber of Secrets was opened."

"Why?" asked Harry, astonished. Malfoy had reveled in the opening of the Chamber.

Malfoy shot Harry an indecipherable expression. "Father wasn't supposed to give the diary to the Weaselette," he said. "That's part of the reason that the Dark Lord punished our family so much. I know that diary was precious to him. I thought – if I could go back in time and stop Father from doing that – then maybe things would be better for us if the Dark Lord rose again."

Harry wasn't sure whether to feel horrified or angered by Malfoy's clear selfishness. "Didn't you care about stopping the Dark Lord from returning at all?"

"That's your job," Malfoy sneered.

Harry's fingers tightened convulsively around his wand. Memories of getting abducted and aiding in the Dark Lord's resurrection, of the unbearable pain he felt as he was possessed by the Dark Lord, of Dumbledore's death and his own in the Forbidden Forest, assaulted him, and before he knew what was happening, a stream of sparks shot out of his wand and hit Malfoy square in the face. Harry gasped as blood streamed out of Malfoy's pointed nose down the rest of his pale face. Malfoy looked up at him, terrified, and Harry felt a sickening guilt settle into his stomach. "_Episkey_," he whispered, pointing his wand at Malfoy, hoping it would work. To his relief, Malfoy stopped bleeding. "Malfoy. Malfoy, I'm sorry." Harry grabbed a rag lying next to him, murmured a cleaning spell and _"Aguamenti_", and handed it to Malfoy.

Malfoy's expression hardened. He jerked the rag away from Harry, wiped the blood off of his face, and threw the rag back into Harry's lap. "Get away from me," he snarled, standing up and wrenching open the door of the broom closet they'd been sitting in. Harry blinked owlishly as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. "I'm going to the Manor," Malfoy announced.

"Wait!" Harry pulled Malfoy back by the hem of his robes. "Malfoy, _stop_. Cast a Disillusionment Charm on yourself first. You can't be seen."

"I would, but I don't have my wand," Malfoy snapped angrily.

"Oh. Right." Harry grinned. "Looks like you're going to have to stick with me then," said Harry, standing and casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself before doing the same for Malfoy.

"Potter? Where are you?" Malfoy asked, looking around nervously.

Harry stood up and grabbed Malfoy's elbow. "Here. Hold onto me and I'll find us somewhere safe to hide." He covertly cast a Restriction Spell on Malfoy that would keep the man within fifty feet of Harry.

"Why should I trust you?" Malfoy hissed, jerking his arm from Harry's grasp."I just passed my Stealth and Tracking exam, if it makes you feel any better," Harry muttered, and he looked around at the empty cubicles of the Auror Office in bewilderment. "We're in the Auror Office," he said. "That holding cell must've been a broom closet at some point. I wonder what date it is."

"It's eight o'clock in the evening," said Malfoy.

Harry's eyes flickered over to the clock at the end of the hall. He mentally cursed, wishing that the clock displayed the date as well as the time, and said, "Most people won't be in the Ministry at this hour. If we're lucky, we can get into the Department of Mysteries and steal a Time-Turner without being spotted, and once we find out what date it is, we can just send ourselves back." He grabbed Malfoy's arm again, surprised when Malfoy didn't protest, and he pulled the other man through the office, keeping an eye out for any _Daily Prophet_ clippings or familiar photographs in any cubicles that would indicate the date.

"Potter, wait." Malfoy halted at the last cubicle. Harry saw a newspaper clipping float up from the desk. It was an advertisement for Quality Quidditch Supplies, saying that the shop was now selling the latest model of the Nimbus broomstick line – the Nimbus 1700. Harry stared at the ad blankly. He knew that the Nimbus 2000 had come out in 1991 during his first year, but he didn't know when its precedent had been released. Malfoy apparently did, however, because he said, in a strange voice, "It's December 1989. I remember this ad, because I begged Father to buy me the broom for Christmas."

"Did he?" asked Harry curiously.

"No," Malfoy answered in a low voice, "I already had the Comet." He put the ad back on the desk.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. He took Malfoy's elbow again, more gently, and said, "Come on. Let's get to the Department of Mysteries. We'll transport ourselves to 1999, and then we can both go home. I reckon the date is the same – it's still December 15."

He should have known that it wouldn't be that easy.

Malfoy said nothing as they entered the golden lift and rode down to the ninth level. The cool female voice announced, "Department of Mysteries," and the grille clanged shut behind them as they reached the bare corridor and faced a single black door. "Let's go," Harry whispered, still holding onto Malfoy's elbow, and he opened the door.

Behind the door, they met a circular room with twelve revolving doors. It was just as still and silent as Harry remembered, lit only by flickering blue flames, and each door looked just the same as the next. "We'll have to try each one," Harry told Malfoy quietly, as they watched, the doors revolved around them.

"I know that, Potter," Malfoy muttered.

They entered the Brain Room and the Planet Room before finally coming to the Time Room. Thankful that they hadn't had to face the Hall of Prophecy or the Death Chamber, Harry headed straight toward the Time-Turners on the back shelf, ignoring the numerous clocks surrounding them as well as the glittering bell jar in which an egg continually hatched into a bird. He reached for a Time-Turner and then paused, carefully looking at the different runes and numbers inscribed on their top panels. He suddenly wished that Hermione were here, or that he'd taken Arithmancy or Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. He had no idea what the difference between the Time-Turners was.

"It's this one." Malfoy's voice floated next to Harry's left ear as he took a Time-Turner from the middle of the shelf.

"The runes and numbers," said Harry, "do you know what they mean?"

"For Merlin's sake," Malfoy snapped. "Of course I know what they mean. I did do some research on Time-Turners before trying to steal one."

Harry wanted to point out that if Malfoy had indeed researched Time-Turners, then he would've known the rule about not being seen by people in the past (including his past self), but he resisted. He took the chain of the Time-Turner and threw it around his neck as Malfoy did the same.

"Ten turns forward," Malfoy muttered under his breath, and Harry counted inside his head as the Time-Turner rotated forward.

_One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten…._

_BANG!_ A white light exploded near Harry's left shoulder, and he was thrown forward into the shelf. Time-Turners fell around him, breaking in glittering shards, bouncing off the anchored Shield Charm that still surrounded Harry's body. In the dim light, Harry could see something unpleasantly red and familiar dripping onto the ground. "Malfoy," he whispered in horror. "_Finite!_"

Malfoy's body reappeared. There was a long cut along his collarbone, and the blood was slowly covering the two broken Time-Turners hanging around it. Harry was horribly reminded of the time that he'd used _Sectumsempra_ on Malfoy. "_Lumos_," he whispered, crawling over to Malfoy. He lifted both chains off of Malfoy's neck, taking care not to graze the man's face, and picked the glass shards that he could see off of the man's skin. "Damn the class five magical objects," he muttered. "_Episkey_." He watched with bated breath as the cut sealed itself, and blood stopped seeping out of the wound. Malfoy sat up, coughing and sputtering like a dying kettle. "Wh-what? Potter?" he whispered. "Potter, where are you?"

"Here," said Harry quickly, removing the Disillusionment Charm on himself. "Can you stand? Can you breathe?"

Malfoy ignored Harry's proffered hand and stood up, wincing as he brushed dust and glass off his robes. "What happened? Did it work?"

"No," said Harry wildly. "No, it didn't work. I don't think it did. The Time-Turners reacted with one another."

Malfoy cursed, touching his neck in wonder. "Why am I bleeding?!"

"The Time-Turners broke and cut you," Harry explained. "I healed you as much as I could with my wand." He looked around at the destruction surrounding them, feeling a twinge of guilt at destroying part of the Department of Mysteries yet again. "Look, we need to get out of here before someone sees us."

"Potter…" Malfoy said nervously.

Harry froze as he heard the sound of footsteps coming toward them. He cursed under his breath and quickly casted Disillusionment Charms on both of them. _Shouldn't have left the Invisibility Cloak at home_, he thought ruefully, ashe watched as a tall man with dark curly hair and a pug nose enter the still-opened to the Time Room. The man's dark eyes widened as he took in the damage, and he quickly turned around and ran out, shouting about thievery and break-ins. His voice soon faded away.

"Bugger. Malfoy, we need to go _now_," Harry said, pulling on Malfoy's arm, and together they stood up and ran out of the Time Room into the circular room with all of the revolving doors. Spotting the single door leading to the lifts, Harry pushed it open just as a group of Unspeakables burst out of one of the twelve doors in the circle, the shouting man in the lead. Harry pulled out his wand, shouted "_Colloportus!_" at the single door behind him, and leapt into the lift, slamming the grille shut and nearly crashing into Malfoy as both their invisible hands reached for the button to take them to the Atrium. Harry glimpsed the gold Fountain of Magical Brethren as they exited, pushing past some bewildered-looking witches and wizards toward the gilded fireplaces for departures.

"_Finite!_" someone shouted directly behind Harry, and he dodged to the right, pulling Malfoy with him into the nearest fireplace. He saw two wands point in their direction as roaring green flames engulfed both men. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" Harry cried desperately, feeling warmth surround his body as the Disillusionment Charms were removed, and ash swirled around him before the fireplace spat him out onto a dark, dusty, and richly carpeted floor. Malfoy landed next to him with a thunk.

Harry stood and brushed ash off of his robes, looking around at the unfamiliar room. Dark bookshelves filled with ancient, evil-looking tomes covered the walls, and an ornate desk and chair sat next to the fireplace.

"We're in the the Manor," said Malfoy, looking around with a bewildered expression. "We're in Father's study."

"But I didn't say – "

"We need to get out of here," interrupted Malfoy, an edge to his voice. "We need to leave the Manor as soon as we can."

Harry shot Malfoy a surprised look. Didn't Malfoy say that he was going to the Manor when they'd first arrived in 1989?

"If my father doesn't discover us, then the house-elves will, and they answer to him," Malfoy said, sounding as if each word was being pulled from him. "There's nowhere to hide." His expression shuttered. "Trust me. I would know."

Harry forcefully pushed back the memories he had of Malfoy Manor and nodded. "Can we Apparate?"

"No. There's an Apparition point in the back garden. Disillusion us again and I'll take us there. I know a shortcut."

Harry complied. This time, it was Malfoy who pulled Harry through a series of winding tunnels. Harry shivered involuntarily, remembering the time that he'd been captured by Voldemort's servants and taken to the cellar of Malfoy Manor. He hoped Malfoy wasn't leading him into a trap. Although Malfoy had been surprisingly reliable since they'd got into this mess, Harry still didn't trust his former enemy completely. He doubted that he ever would.

"We're here," said Malfoy softly, pushing open a large wooden door and pulling Harry outside. The icy grass crunched under their feet as they crossed the garden, passing a few familiar albino peacocks that didn't seem to notice their presence. They leapt over a yew hedge that presumably signified the end of the grounds and stopped a few feet away, standing in silence for a moment.

"Well?" Malfoy asked. His voice was thin. "What now?"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to think. They could try to go to Grimmauld Place again, but Kreacher was sure to be there. The Leaky Cauldron and the Hog's Head were definitely out of the question; there were far too many wizards there who might see them and mistakenly recognize them as Lucius Malfoy and James Potter. And since James Potter was dead – well. Harry didn't want to think about the kind of commotion that would cause. Harry bit his lip. If it was indeed still December 15, then there was one place they could hide in that was sure to be empty…."I know one place we could Apparate to," said Harry slowly.

"Where?"

"You wouldn't know where it is. Take my arm."

"What? No! Tell me where."

Harry bit down the rising dread in his stomach. "My aunt and uncle's house in the Muggle world. Right now, they're on holiday in the United States." How could he have forgotten that winter holiday? He'd had to stay in Mrs. Figg's house for a week while Dudley, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon had gone to the States. Dudley had flaunted his New York City pictures for months afterward.

Harry heard Malfoy go quite still. "No. No! I refuse to hide in a _Muggle_ home. The very thought is making me ill."

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Harry replied, the anger he'd long been suppressing starting to flare. "There's no place else where we won't run into wizards and be recognized and seen."

Malfoy didn't respond for a moment. Harry kept his eyes trained on the spot where Malfoy was standing, wondering if the man was going to run. Finally Malfoy said, curtly, "Fine. All right. Where's your arm, Potter?"

"To your right."

Malfoy's hands were trembling as he gripped Harry's left arm tightly enough to cut off circulation. Harry smirked. "Why so nervous, Malfoy? Are you really that scared of Muggles?"

"Shut up, P-Potter." Malfoy's teeth were chattering. "It's getting cold out here. Just take me somewhere inside. Preferably somewhere with a working fireplace."

Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm, closed his eyes, and imagined the plain, square house on Number 4 Privet Drive. One terrible squeezing sensation later, they were standing directly in front of the front door, the big gold "4" nearly hitting their noses. Harry pointed his wand at the frozen hydrangea bushes, Summoned the spare key, and was just about to put it into the lock when he caught a flash of movement near the window. "Malfoy! Get down!" he hissed, forgetting that he was invisible. He found Malfoy's shoulder and pulled him down to the ground quickly. "Someone's in the house."

They crouched on the front step, breathing heavily.

"I thought you said no one would be here," Malfoy drawled even as he whispered. "And in case you haven't noticed, we're invisible."

"There shouldn't be anyone here," Harry whispered, frowning. Could he have got the date wrong? The Dursleys had definitely left on the fifteenth of December, and he'd definitely stayed at Mrs. Figg's house during their entire trip. As far as he knew, not a single person had touched the house during that week. "Let's go around to the back. It'll be easier to observe the rest of the house." He led Malfoy carefully into Aunt Petunia's prize garden, sitting down on the bench next to the hedge where he'd first seen Dobby.

"Potter," Malfoy whispered. "The light is on. Look."

Harry frowned as he noticed the well-lit kitchen. He held out his wand and slowly crossed the yard, trying to peer in through the windows, but just as he'd got a good view, the kitchen light turned off. Harry bit his lip. Perhaps the Dursleys had purposely left the kitchen light and hallway light on so that it would look like they were home. Harry distantly remembered Uncle Vernon complaining about hooligans who liked to rob empty houses during the holidays.

Harry muttered "_Lumos_" and attempted to peer in through the kitchen windows, quickly extinguishing the light as, much to his surprise, the light in his old room – Dudley's second bedroom – turned on. He caught the faint outline of a small boy near the window before the light turned off and the entire house was left in darkness.

Harry quickly went back to the bench where Malfoy was sitting. "I'm going to investigate," he whispered. "Stay here."

"Potter! You can't leave me out here!" Malfoy whispered loudly. "I'm freezing!"

Harry groaned softly. "Fine, Malfoy. But stay in the kitchen and don't touch anything." He crept up to the back door, unlocking it with a silent _Alohomora_, and listened to Malfoy's soft footsteps enter the house. One of the kitchen chairs creaked softly as Malfoy sat down.

"I'm going upstairs," Harry whispered, and he stole through the hallway to the staircase, ascending each step noiselessly. He never thought he'd be back in this house, sneaking around two years after he'd left it behind forever, but it was actually a little bit fun. Much more fun than the Stealth and Tracking exam that he'd aced a week earlier. He could thank his years at the Dursleys for his success with that.

He stopped in front of his old bedroom, noting the lack of cat flaps and locks on the door, and turned the doorknob slowly. He'd only taken a few steps into the room before something rather small and rather jingly came flying toward his head. Harry ducked it easily, thanking the reflexes honed into him by a combination of Quidditch and Auror training, and pulled out his wand. "_Lumos_," he said quickly. He heard startled gasps in the corner and lowered his wand slowly.

"Wh-who's there?" asked a childish and strangely familiar voice. "Sh-show yourself or I'll – I'll kill you!"

Harry's jaw dropped open, and he took an involuntary step backward.

Staring up at him from the corner through wide, terrified green eyes framed by round black spectacles, was the tense, shaking form of a nine-year-old Harry Potter.

---------------------------

A/N: Please review!

I'm still working on _Intersections_ - sorry to disappoint all of those readers who thought that this was Chapter 13! It's coming along, I promise.

The idea for this fic was inspired partially by Chris Columbus' _Home Alone_, which I watched shortly before I returned to school. The cartoon movie that Harry watches is Walt Disney's _The Sword in the Stone_ (1963); I've always thought that there were several parallels between Harry and Arthur (and Merlin and Dumbledore), among other things. I've always wanted to read a long time-travel fic in which Harry goes back and meets his younger self, and I thought Malfoy would be an interesting wild card to throw into the picture.

When I originally wrote this first chapter, there was a lot more witty dialogue between Malfoy and Harry; however, I felt that this was not yet appropriate, considering Draco's desperation and Harry's current power over him (both magically and socially, considering that Draco is wandless and in the Muggle world). I'm not sure in which direction their relationship will go, so if you ask me if it's slash or not, I honestly can't tell you. I'll be experimenting with different approaches as I write the rest of the story.


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